Navigation

I Was There: Almost almost no no

First, a confession: Cole Hamels is a big part of why the other women on the masthead at Ladies... asked me to join them to write about hotties, sports, and sports hotties. So I make no pretense at objectivity here. If you're looking for objective, go read the AP's story about the game. I'll wait.

I'm a big believer in omens; those little messages from the universe that try to tell you when something momentous is going to happen. So when I left work yesterday to head down to the CBP for Ryan Howard bobblehead night and Cole's seventh start of the season, there was a rapture-like downpour all over the Delaware Valley and four fire trucks blocked my progress to I-95. "This is a bad sign," I said to myself.

I'm glad I ignored that thought.

Clearly a lot of other people threw common sense by the wayside too.

How much could I get on eBay for nine pallets of Ryan Howard bobbleheads?

From the Phillies Wall of Fame area in center field, I had a great view of the bathroom bullpen. Too bad the ushers threw me out before I could watch Cole and Jeff Suppan warm up.

After wandering around on the concourse for 90 minutes, drinking Victorino Hop Devil and growing ever more damp, I caught the grounds crew yanking the tarp off the field.

Finally, Cole comes out to warm up. I squee.

Eeeeeeeeee!

The minister of silly walks.

Brett Myers chats with a fan, then slugs him in the face. Allegedly.

I think I took this photo during the first or second inning. From my seat in Section 141, I had a very fine view of Pat the Bat. Pat, you've got something on your pants; let me brush that off for you.

Around the fifth, though, the atmosphere in the park changed. People started to take notice of the Brewers' line -- a whole string of zeroes. All of a sudden, people were standing up on every two-strike count, screaming for strikeouts, going wild on a 5-3 throw to first. For all the flak Philadelphia fans take for their negative qualities, they're a force to be reckoned with when they get behind you. It's hard to say who was carrying who; Did Cole have these 40,000-or-so soggy Philadelphians on his back, or did we have him on ours?

Just look at that line!

It was Nurses' Appreciation Night at the CBP, so during the Phanatic's traditional sixth-inning appearance, he was kitted out in scrubs and a surgical mob cap.

Eventually, though, the magic had to end (I blame it on the striped-shirt wearing douchebag sitting in front of me -- don't talk about a no-no while it's going on, dumbass!) J.J. Hardy and his stupid goatee lined a two-run homer out to Section 142. It only took a little bit of booing for the guy who caught it to throw it back on the field, though. Cole, with his incredible poise, fanned six of the next seven guys he faced. What a stud.